Christmas Past, Present, and Future
by cmar
Summary: PRTF: Wes remembers the past with his teammates, Eric faces an ordeal in the present, Jen talks about her memories of the future. In 'Time' series. Complete.


Wes, Jen, Eric and all of Time Force belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, but I am not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Gaby is mine. 

Rated PG: mild language and sexuality.

This was originally going to be a short, fluffy piece, but somehow grew longer and perhaps a little darker in places. Holiday greetings to everyone out there, especially my friends in the fanfic community (you know who you are...). Thanks to you, it's been a great year.

Set in my 'Year of Time' series.

Kindly take a moment to review...

Christmas

* * *

Wes: Christmas Past

He sighed, for maybe the tenth time that evening. Paperwork. So boring, yet so annoying. And so hard to concentrate on, especially tonight. His eyes drifted from the untidy stack of documents on his desk, up, and over to the window. It was dark out, but enough light shone out from his office to illuminate the snowflakes falling silently outside. Restless, he got up and moved to stand at the window, leaning his head against the cold glass, staring out and trying to pierce the darkness, the soft veil of lacy snow.

It was Christmas, and Bio-Lab was virtually deserted. Just a few guards, a few Silver Guardians, even fewer scientists with delicate experiments they needed to check on. And Wes Collins. Stuck here, alone, for another hour, before he could get home for dinner with his family. He'd never before realized how empty a place like Bio-Lab could be, and how distracting silence and isolation were...

But, soon, he'd be out of here, on his way home. To Jen, and his father. He sighed again as he reflected that he had spent every Christmas evening of his life in that big beautiful house where he had grown up, with his father… every Christmas except one, that is.

Faint strains of sound came to his ears, drifting in from the hallways. Someone had the radio on, Christmas music, of course, 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas'. The familiar bittersweet melody brought the memory back almost overwhelmingly -- thelyrics were too faint to make out but it didn't matter, he knew them by heart, with the tone of sadness under cheerful words.

It had been snowing then, too. Fat white flakes, cold and wet as they landed on his face. He had been hurrying along the street, stopping just long enough to look up at the old clock tower where his friends were waiting, seeing the glow of the clock face, warm and welcoming through the gusting whirls of snow…

* * *

"Wes! You made it!" Trip exclaimed happily, coming to meet him as he reached the top of the long flight of stairs, panting slightly from the effort. 

"Yeah. Man, is it cold out there! And that snow is really coming down, lucky there's not much traffic…" Wes trailed off, smiling ruefully as Trip grabbed the large bags he was carrying and started back to the center of the room, ignoring him. The others crowded around as he set it on the table. "Obviously I'm not the one you were waiting for," he said, trying to sound insulted.

"Sorry, Wes," Trip said absently. "Wow, look at the size of this thing!"

Lucas and Katie were busily unpacking the bags, revealing a turkey and a stack of containers, which Wes knew held stuffing, gravy, yams, salad, biscuits, and pudding. A real holiday meal. He grinned at the looks on the others' faces, all of them bright with anticipation. The others went to work, putting the finishing touches on setting the table and putting the food out.

"I hope your dad isn't having dinner all alone, because of us," Trip said as they all sat down.

"No. He's having a party. A bunch of business associates."

"Well, good, I guess. Pass the turkey!"

"Don't hog it all, Trip."

"I won't if you won't, Lucas."

"Save some for me, I have to keep up my strength."

"You're strong _enough_, Katie..."

* * *

An hour later, pleasantly stuffed, slightly drowsy, and thoughtful, Wes stood at one of the large stone-framed windows, hearing the soft clattering of Trip and Katie clearing up, staring out into the snow-filled darkness, wondering if it was possible to see the lights from his father's house in the distance. 

"Penny for your thoughts." Jen smiled as he turned his face to her. "That _is_ the right expression, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure." He looked out again.

"Well?"

"Huh? Oh. Sorry, just thinking."

"Wishing you were home, with your father?"

"No. Well, yeah... Ever wish you could be in two places at once?"

"Frequently." There was a pause, her voice softer when she spoke again. "It was nice of your dad to do this for us."

"Yeah, it was." Wes watched the snow again for a few moments before going on. "He insisted that I spend Christmas here, you know. I was going to go to the house, like always. Didn't want to hurt his feelings, now that we're speaking to each other again. And I thought it might be embarrassing for him if I'm not there. But Cook always makes enough food for an army; I asked if I could bring some back for you guys."

"And?"

"He said I should be with you tonight. Said -- well, that this might be the only Christmas that you're all here."

"I guess he's right." Jen's voice was low, with a note of sadness that made Wes turn to look at her face.

"But that's a good thing for you, isn't it? You'll be going home."

"I suppose. You're right. Once we capture Ransik, we'll be going home." She smiled, but there was still a shadow behind her eyes as they moved away from him to look out at the lights twinkling through a mist of snow. "So... what do you think he'll say, to explain why you're not there tonight?" she asked after a moment.

"He said he'll tell them I met a girl... That I want to spend Christmas with her and her family... said they'd understand."

She gave him a glance, then quickly pulled her eyes back to the night sky. A tiny smile played with her lips as she said, "That sounds reasonable."

"Yeah." He grinned. It was true enough, after all, even if Jen didn't know it. He was spending Christmas with the woman he loved, and with their family.

He looked up at the sound of music. Lucas had turned on the radio, and as Wes watched, began to dance with Katie, swinging her around and moving into something surprisingly similar to a jitterbug. Wes grinned, Jen laughed, until the music changed to something slower and Lucas and Katie stopped and sat on the couch, talking quietly with Trip.

Wes listened to a few moments of the lovely old song and then, impulsively, took Jen's hand. "Want to try it?" he asked.

"Sure..."

He was surprised by the wave of emotion he felt as he put an arm around her, realizing it was the first time, and maybe the last. Both of them grinned, at first, as they tried to follow the rhythm and each other's steps, but then the smiles faded as they relaxed, letting the music move them, as they came closer together. Then they weren't looking at each other at all, Jen was embracing him, her cheek smooth and warm against his, the clean smell of her hair, the pressure of her body against his... He closed his eyes, wishing the moment could last forever.

* * *

All gone now, of course. The clock tower, that chilly, musty old building he had grown to love; Trip, Katie, Lucas, the friends and teammates he still felt close to, despite the sea of time that came between them. Jen had been gone too, for much too long. He had never expected to see her again, but that wasn't how things had turned out. 

Wes smiled again, now, as he turned from the window. They had been separated for more than a year, been together again, separated again, had to deal with Jen's broken engagement to Alex... But through all the troubles and loneliness, their love had stayed strong, and after a long and complicated series of events, Jen had been able to stay permanently. They were getting married in less than two months, and his wish that the others could be there too was the only flaw in his happiness.

The music caught his ear again as the song reached its end. Then a glance at the clock showed it was almost time to go. It would be a perfect Christmas evening, just him, Jen, and his father. Would have been nice to have Eric and Gaby there too, but... He smiled again at the thought, wondering how Eric was handling the ordeal of meeting the 'rents...

Eric: Christmas Present

"Wait..." Eric saw Gaby stop a few steps ahead of him, and turn back with an inquiring look on her face. He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold, blinking as a gust of breeze blew snowflakes into his eyes, casting a nervous glance at the large bay windows of the house they stood in front of.

"What's wrong?" she asked, coming back to face him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Of course I'm sure. Don't be nervous."

"I'm not..."

"Yes, you are. Come on, my parents won't bite you."

"Yeah, well, they're gonna look at me and see the guy who's sleeping with their daughter. I bet your old man doesn't like _that_."

"My _old man_ grew up in the sixties. So'd my old lady. They're very -- liberal, I guess. They're happy about it." She grinned. "Maybe they're afraid I'll end up an old maid, so they think this is a step in the right direction."

He snorted. "Married or single, you'll never be an old maid."

She laughed lightly. "You bet. Now come on, they're dying to meet you."

"I dunno... maybe this is a bad idea."

"Eric... You can't back out _now_. They're expecting us." She frowned and wrapped her arms around herself, an edge of annoyance in her voice. "What are you so worried about, anyway?"

He glanced around, trying to collect his thoughts. They were in a nice, normal suburban front yard, on the pathway from the garage where he had parked to a nice, normal suburban house, snow drifting thickly down around them, creating the soft hush that surrounded them, broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing. Christmas tree lights twinkled through the windows, it looked like it was warm inside, and happy, full of nice, normal people guzzling eggnog and sucking face under the mistletoe...

To tell the truth, he wasn't sure himself what the problem was. Meeting Gaby's parents shouldn't be a big deal. Not logically. Except that they were both college professors, and he had never even graduated from high school. Except that they were nice, normal, middle-class people, the kind of people who were supposed to have merry Christmases, and he -- wasn't. Except that somehow it was important that they like him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself he didn't care.

"Eric, you have nothing to be ashamed of," Gaby said softly, her eyes on his, seeming to read his mind.

"I'm not... I know that. But... what am I going to talk about with them? They're teachers, I'm not educated like that..."

"You don't need a degree to talk to them. What do you think, they never use a word with less than four syllables?"

"I have nothing in common with them."

"Sure you do." She stepped closer. "You can talk about _me_."

"That'll kill about thirty seconds..."

"Very funny." She grinned. "If you can talk to me, you can talk to them. Now come on."

"What do they teach again?" he asked, mostly stalling for time.

"He teaches anthropology and fine arts, she teaches French language and French literature."

"Christ. I don't know anything about any of those things."

"Hey, how do you think _I_ feel?" she complained, making a face at him. "I grew up reading comic books and playing with computers. I think classical music is boring, rather go to a Star Trek convention than an art museum. Sometimes I suspect I was adopted."

"Yeah, but at least you went to college."

"Oh, come off it. You're very smart. You may not have a college education, but you know as much as I do, or they do, just different things." As he stared at the ground, vaguely embarrassed, she went on in a lighter tone. "Besides, you know what they say about college degrees..."

"No. What?"

She grinned. "B.S. stands for Bull Shit, M.S. stands for More Shit, and PhD means Piled Higher and Deeper."

He smiled at that but still didn't come any closer. "Cute. But... what am I going to talk about with them?"

Gaby shrugged, the faint sound of impatience back in her voice. "Movies. Current events. The weather. You know, stuff. It's not like they speak a different language."

"I dunno about that." Eric glanced at the house again. "This kind of thing just isn't... I'm not used to it, you know?"

"You haven't had many family Christmases, have you?" Her expression had softened.

"No. Not any, really." With a mother who was usually drunk, a father who was usually gone, or angry... "My family wasn't exactly like the movies. Later, I was in the orphanage, and then foster homes. Some of them tried, but..."

"But it wasn't your own family."

"No." He shrugged. "I used to wonder what the big deal was with Christmas. It never seemed very special. Then I started to wonder why I had been left out..." Left out of the families he saw in the commercials, or in the movies and TV shows, the ones where everyone was smiling, laughing, the families that loved each other. And now -- he still wondered, wondered why he couldn't seem to feel the same way everyone else obviously did. "We never even had a tree," he went on. "I guess my folks just didn't think of it, or didn't care."

"That's terrible."

He looked at her face to find it drawn with sympathy, and shrugged again. "It wasn't all bad, I had some good times in the service, Christmas with the guys, a big dinner, even a tree some years. They were almost like family. Then I came here, two years ago." He frowned, remembering that first Christmas, spent alone. He had stayed inside all day, not wanting anyone to see him and pity him, not wanting to see the families, the couples...

"Must have been lonely. You didn't really know anyone here, did you, except Wes?"

"Yeah. And Wes and I weren't really friends yet."

"And last year?"

He avoided her eyes. "Wes invited me, but... I didn't feel right, horning in on them. Wes was depressed about Jen... I would have been in the way." All true -- more or less. But also he had simply felt that he would be out of place. He hadn't yet been as close to Wes as he was now, and had thought they had only invited him out of pity.

Gaby raised a brow. "I'm sure they would have liked to have you there."

"Maybe," he answered noncommittally.

"And if we'd been dating then I would have invited you over. But -- you're here now." She pulled her hands from her pockets, came close, and took his arm, hugging it to her with a smile. "They'll love you, Eric, don't worry."

He looked down at the snow-covered ground again, still reluctant. "Well, it's not just that," he admitted. "Like I said, I never liked Christmas much. Any of the holidays. All that phony crap... Everyone's all stressed out, but they run around with a big fake smile on their face, and of course you're supposed to be all happy, and something's wrong with you if you're not... I guess I just have trouble -- believing in it."

"Eric..." She let go, staring at him. "I guess that's a natural attitude, considering the kind of family you had. And you're partly right, a lot of people get depressed around the holidays. But it's not _all_ fake. Me and my family, _we're_ not fake."

"I didn't mean you."

"Yes, you did."

"Look, maybe something _is_ wrong with me, that I feel this way. I'm sorry. But I can't help it."

"Well..." she smiled, a little tentatively, and came close again. "Look, just come on in and give it a try. If you get bored or whatever, we can leave early."

"Can we?" He couldn't restrain an answering smile. He also couldn't resist kissing her, feeling the momentary wet chill as a few stray snowflakes melted between his lips and hers.

"Yeah. Come on, dinner'll be waiting... turkey, dressing, all that stuff."

"Cranberry sauce?"

"I hate the stuff, but yeah, they'll have it."

He found himself smiling again. "Mistletoe? Eggnog? The mantle covered with cards?"

"The whole bit."

"Jesus. Are we going to sing Christmas carols in front of the fireplace, too?"

"Hmmph. Maybe you'd rather stay out here all night? We could make snow angels, or a snowman."

"Or write my name in the snow..."

"Sounds chilling. Speaking of which, I'm freezing..." She backed away, grinning. "Come on in, or I'll have to do something drastic."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Like this!" She stooped to scoop up a handful of snow.

"You wouldn't dare!" But the snowball hit him in the shoulder as he bent to grab his own ammunition.

"_Errriiic!_ You'll ruin my hair!" Gaby cried, laughing as his return shot caught her in the head.

There was more laughter as they pelted each other for a few moments, then Eric stopped and straightened at the sound of the front door opening, taking a last snowball in the chest. Gaby turned, and then trotted up the steps to greet the middle-aged couple smiling at them from the doorway with hugs. Eric followed more slowly, hanging back until she reached out to him.

"Mom, Dad, this is Eric..."

Jen: Christmas Future

"Here you go." Alan Collins handed Jen her drink with a smile and seated himself on an armchair facing the couch she was curled up on. "Let me know if you think there's enough rum in it. Or too much." He watched as she took an experimental sip. "Not everyone likes eggnog," he added, sounding a little anxious.

"No, it's… good. Different." She tried again. They had lost many things in the years between now and the time she had grown up in, eggnog being one of them. A shame, she finally decided, taking a bigger mouthful as the rich, creamy drink began to ignite a warm feeling in her stomach.

"Want more? I only gave you enough to taste."

"Mmm." A moment later her glass was back, filled. "Too bad Wes won't be here until dinnertime," she said.

"Yes. But you know Wes. He wanted Eric to have the day off to meet Gaby's folks, and Steve's parents are back from Europe to visit him."

"So he thought he should go in. I know."

Alan half-smiled. "None of them really needed to be there… But Wes doesn't want anyone to think he's taking advantage of being the boss's son."

"You should be glad he's so conscientious."

"I am. But I think sometimes he goes a little overboard, like he has to prove he's doing a good job…" Alan sighed, sitting back in the chair. "I used to wish he'd grow up, work harder, take life more seriously. Until _you_ came along. You've been good for him, Jen."

"Well… thanks. He's been good for me, too." Embarrassed, she raised the cup to her lips again.

"Actually, I'm glad we have a chance to talk alone. Get to know each other. You're going to be my daughter-in-law very soon, after all. And I realized I know very little about your life before you came here."

Jen stared into her drink, unsure of what to say. "I don't know. It's not that I don't want to talk about it, but you know I can't say much about the future."

"Just tell me whatever you feel comfortable with. I'd like to know where you grew up. What your family was like. Why you joined Time Force."

"Why I joined the Force. That was because of my parents, I guess."

"Were they Time Force officers, too?"

"No. Nothing like that..." It had been Christmas then, too, the day she had told her aunt and uncle what she planned to do, the day she had taken the first steps that had determined the course of her life and ultimately led her here...

* * *

"Jen, I really think you should reconsider. That farm's been in the family for over a hundred years. If you sell it now, you may regret it later." 

Jen could feel it, the anger and frustration. They were doing it again, assuming they knew best, treating her like a kid. She was almost sixteen, after all. Old enough to make her own decisions. And it wasn't like they were her parents.

But that thought only brought the pain back. The memory, her commphone buzzing in the classroom; she had known it must be important, only emergency calls could get through the school's call-screening. The voice on the other end, the farm foreman, telling her to go out to the hallway… the school counselor waiting there, watching as she got the news, then silently coming forward to hold her as she swayed dizzily…

It had been an accident. One of the threshing machines, things like that weren't supposed to happen, but it had, her father had been caught, her mother also when she tried to save him. Both had died almost instantly, they told her. They wouldn't let her see the bodies, but her own imagination had probably been worse than anything she could have seen.

That had been four months ago. Her life had changed so completely. She had been shipped off to live with her aunt and uncle, nice people, but somehow she didn't fit with them, maybe because they were so transparently trying to replace her parents. Increasingly she only wanted to be left alone, to make a clean break with the past, as the reality of her loss set in and depression began to take over. Especially now.

Christmas. It was supposed to be a happy time, a family time. But what did she have? An aunt and uncle who seemed like strangers. A home that wasn't even hers. Only memories. And it was today, on Christmas, that she had made a final decision.

"No, I'm sure, Aunt Rae. I don't want the farm anymore. I just… I don't want to go back there. Ever."

"I know you feel that way now, and I understand. But you grew up there. That's where your roots are. Someday…"

"No. I won't change my mind. If you won't let me sell, I'll just do it when I'm sixteen, and you can't stop me."

They exchanged an anxious look, the two of them. On some level, Jen felt almost sorry for them; they obviously wanted to help, and didn't know how. "Well, if you're sure," Rae finally said. "At least let us help you find a good buyer. And you should make sure that whoever buys it keeps the help on."

"Yeah. I don't want anyone to lose their job." Jen bent her head, and then remembered to say, "Thanks." And now came the second part. "I'm applying to Time Force Academy," she said abruptly.

"You're… what?"

"I want to join Time Force. I've got the application. I'll be sixteen in time to join the entering class next year."

"Time Force? But why? And that means you'd have to leave here, move to Silver City…"

_That's the point… _"I know," she said. "I… I want to go. I've thought about it a lot. That's what I want to do. And you won't have to pay for it or anything, I'll have the money from the farm…"

Rae looked at her searchingly, Jen for a moment almost believing that her aunt could see inside her, to the pain and the loneliness… "Honey, we'd love for you to stay with us," she said softly. "But you have to do what's right for you. If this is what you want, we'll back you up."

Somehow, she summoned a smile, although she wanted to cry at the unexpected kindness and understanding. "Thanks," she murmured, not raising her eyes.

* * *

"You lost your parents at only fifteen. That's terrible," Alan said, his face holding something of the same kindness Aunt Rae's had. 

Jen blinked, and blamed the alcohol for the sudden stinging behind her eyes. "Thanks. It was a long time ago. Or a long time in the future, actually." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Strange how things happen. I just wanted to change my life completely, and Time Force seemed like a good way to do it. But as soon as I got there, I felt like I'd found my true calling. It was hard, sometimes I wondered if I was good enough, but I loved it. And of course, that's how I met Alex."

He nodded. "Yes, I'm curious about Alex, too. He saved my life, after all, although I never actually met him. And I didn't want to ask when Wes is around. If you don't mind talking about him, of course."

"Alex." She smiled. "That's another story. And no, I don't mind."

* * *

"To Lieutenant Scotts. Merry Christmas." 

Jen smiled at him. Alex, usually so serious, so stern. But with her he was different. Softer. He looked so good when he smiled, when he laughed, when his eyes sparkled with a deep blue fire, when he got that look on his face, the one that made her heart give a giddy jump, the one that meant he was about to kiss her… He leaned forward, his lips brushing hers lightly, lingering for a moment with the promise of things to come. Then he sat back, his hand finding hers.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Commander Drake."

"Only Lt. Commander."

"Yeah, _only_." She grinned. Alex, her boyfriend, was the youngest officer of his rank in Time Force. Not to mention the additional honor he had just been given. She was as proud as if it had been her. And who knows, she was a few years younger, she might still match his achievements. "So tell me, Lt. Commander Drake, how does it feel to be the guinea pig for Time Force's latest program?"

He made a face. "You make it sound so attractive. It's a great opportunity. A terrific offer. To be the first Power Ranger…" His eyes seemed to focus on some unseen vision.

"You'll go down in history," she said, only half teasing.

"I will if I can use it to get Ransik."

That deflated her mood slightly. "Alex, I wish…" But she couldn't say it, that some part of her wished it wasn't him who would someday risk his life fighting Time Force's greatest, most powerful enemy, even equipped with the strongest weapons systems available. She knew this was what he wanted, what he felt he had been born to do. She wouldn't deny him that, even if it was dangerous. "I hope you'll be careful," was all she said.

"You know I will. I have a lot to live for, after all." He put his drink down, took hers from her hand, and then dropped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "We shouldn't be talking about Ransik. I'm looking at someone much, much prettier… and she's all I want to think about right now…"

"Really? Who's that?" But there was no more need for talk, as he kissed her again.

* * *

"Hmm. I suspect you're not telling me everything." Alan smiled at her. 

Jen smiled back. She had left out the more personal details when she told him about that last Christmas she had spent with Alex, talking about the morpher he was about to get, looking forward to his becoming a Ranger. That was the Christmas before they had gotten engaged, before the fight with Ransik that had almost killed him, before they were separated by her mission to 2001, to capture the escaped mutant criminal.

"I may have left out a few things," she said.

"You loved him, didn't you?"

"Yes." She sighed faintly. "But we grew apart, while I was here, in this time. And when he came here to help, he was so different… I changed too. Wes had something to do with that." She looked up at his face. "I love your son, Alan. Don't ever doubt that. I still love Alex, too, but in a different way now."

"I wasn't questioning you."

"I know. But… some people might wonder how I could be engaged to Alex, and then fall in love with Wes."

"You thought Alex was dead."

"But I found out he was alive before anything really happened between me and Wes. I guess by that time, it was too late. I was already half in love with Wes, and things… went wrong for me and Alex." She sighed again, unhappily. "Maybe it was disloyal. I know it was. But sometimes you can't control your own heart. Maybe if Alex had been there all along, or if he had acted differently…"

"You sound as if you regret the way things turned out."

"No. No, of course not." She turned the cup of eggnog in her hand, staring into the smooth, creamy surface with its sprinkling of cinnamon. "I just regret the way I hurt Alex. It hurt me, too, and Wes. We both felt guilty… And we were separated for so long." She looked up again, smiled, and finished her drink, shaking off her mood with an effort. "But we're together now. Getting married soon. Alex has Rachel, and he was happy the last time I saw him. So everything turned out for the best."

"Yes. Wes and I are certainly happy with things the way they are… Want another?" He got up to take her cup and went to the bar when she nodded.

They heard the door open, and Jen turned to smile at Wes as he appeared, grinning, brushing snow off his coat. She jumped up, and went to meet him as he removed the coat and scarf, and wrapped an arm around her waist, his lips cold as he kissed her. Alan was right behind her, handing her a fresh drink and hold another out to his son.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Dad," Wes said. He kissed Jen again. "Eggnog, huh? Trying to get my girl drunk, Dad?"

"Right, son."

"Well, let's get me drunk too." He lifted his cup. "What were you two talking about? Anything good?"

"I guess... Christmas past," Alan said. "Or Christmas future, in a way."

"Sounds interesting."

"For now, let's concentrate on Christmas present," Jen said, leaning her head against Wes's.

"And Christmas dinner, I'm starved," Wes added as they turned their steps towards the dining room.

* * *

End 

* * *


End file.
